God Hand: Eye of the Badass
by Hizumi the Ninja
Summary: This tells the tale of Gene shortly after getting the Godhand, adapting to his new power as he takes on a gang rumored to worship demons... none of it his choice, of course. Set as a prequel before the events that happen in the game.
1. The Earliest Beginning

"...and thus, this man, with the heavenly powers of God in his arms, fought against the evil legions of Angra and eventually confronted and defeated him, banishing him away into exile..."

"..."

"...Gene...? Hey! Gene!"

There was suddenly a sharp jab to the ribs, waking a man out of a spaced-out trance as he stared out the window of a train. He let out an annoyed grumble as he looked over to the girl sitting next to him, giving her a rather hard stare as he turned his gaze in her direction, frowning that his train of thought had been interrupted by her. She seemed irritated that she had gone on for several minutes, talking about the legend of what was called the "god hand", and about the man who wielded them to defeat an evil entity... nothing of which the man was interested in, as he had his mind on something else.

"What, what? What is it now?" he grumbled out loud to her as he glared at her.

"Were you even listening to me?"

"Yeah, sure. Godarms. Demons. Banishing Angra. Got it all."

"It's Godhands. God. _Hands_. Got it? If you're going to be wearing it, get it's name _right_."

"Psh, whatever, lady. Man, what a nitpicker."

"And my name isn't 'lady', it's Olivia. Remember that too while you're at it, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah..." he said hurriedly, as he wanted to resume his thoughts, turning his attention back to the scenery out the window.

Both the man and the girl next to him sat in an uncomfortable, uneasy silence after that conversation. The man was dressed in brown pants with black boots, a dusty black and red-trim longcoat that had the emblem of a split-open skull on the back and a hoodie that hung limply behind his head, a white shirt underneath, and a red bandanna. The left side of it had a sleeve, and the right looked torn off... on that right arm was a strange brace that looked as though it had been there forever, shining despite the fact it had a degree of dustiness to it. He ran his fingers through his dirty-silver hair, scratching his scalp for a moment to get rid of an itch that suddenly sprang up on the top of his noggin. He also had on a small white patch just under his left eye, probably from a slight injury that may have since healed, but Gene forgot he had it there.

The girl next to him was wearing a denim shirt with a powder blue skirt and thigh-high boots, a choker collar with an ornate necklace around her neck, wristbands, and short brown hair. Compared to the man she was with, she was pretty cute, and rather well-endowed in the front. Any other man may find this woman enchanting, sexy, and beautiful, but certainly not the man who was sitting right next to her. As far as he was concerned, she wasn't really all _that_ attractive.

They were the only passengers in their car, and it was something of a low class seat. But it was all they could afford, as neither of them had much money to go on. The man, supposedly named Gene, looked the girl over for a bit to examine her once more as she read a magazine, unaware of his eyes. She had nice legs, at least, which was the only thing about her he thought was appealing... the girl, who introduced herself as Olivia to him some time ago, would be his type if it weren't for the fact that she was the kind of girl he often hated and found annoying.

The train roared on for a little while longer before it began to slow down. Gene couldn't wait to get off. It felt like hours since they got on, and he wanted to get some decent space away from this crazy chica he saved. A minute or so later, it came to a complete stop and the loud hiss of steam escaping was heard all the way from the train's engine, the roaring of the wheels against the steel tracks changing into a quick silence. This moment couldn't come soon enough for Gene, and when it did, the thought of moving away from her made him beam with enthusiasm.

"Well, that's our stop..." Gene said with a grunt as he stood up and stretched, "Nnn... we're getting off here right?"

"Yeah. We need to stay here for a while," She told him.

"Great. I could use the rest!"

"Actually, I hear rumors this town is under the control of some gang of demon-worshippers... we need to get you started on using that Godhand properly and take care of these goons."

"What!" Gene cried, his high spirits changing into frustration, "Hey, you never told me anything about that! And I don't need to learn how to use this stupid thing!"

"Oh, quit your whining and let's go," with that said, Olivia began to move on, "think of it as a training phase. Kung-fu guys like you like training, don't you?" Gene growled and put his hands in his coat pockets, following after her after she left the cart.

"Not when I'm being forced to do it..." he mumbled.

And so, they exited the train, and headed into a small town next to a lake that looked rather prosperous. Dusty, of course... but then, considering their location, where they were in the badlands, everything pretty much is already dusty by now. It had a very Wild West type of setting to it, from the looks it. Except there is a succinct lack of horses around, and no one was dressed as a cowboy. Instead, there were cars, motorcycles, and regularly dressed people, and yet all of it was dusty. Much of the town was silent and still, but you could hear music playing in the distance, probably from the rock genre, likely coming from the Saloon that was nearby.

"As long as I have this Godhand thing here, are you really going to keep following me around?" Gene then asked Olivia, secretly hoping in his mind that this wouldn't be the case as they continued down the dusty street.

"You betcha~!" She answered with a chipper voice and a sweet smile as they walked down the street, "I've got to make sure you don't do anything irresponsible with it."

"What, are you afraid I'm gonna pick my nose with it?" he asked her in a sarcastic tone.

"You look like the kind of guy who would."

"You're crazy. Anyhow, I'm thirsty. If you're not going to bitch about it, I'd like to get a decent drink somewhere. The liquor on the train was like gargling sewer water."

"How about that saloon over there?" She then asked, pointing to the larger white building that must at least be three floors high, with, of course, the words "SALOON" in big red letters on a sign that hung above the door. Strangely, the L was in reverse, almost spelling out 'sajoon', if one were to look at it that way. Gene, however, didn't pay this any mind and simply waltzed right on into the saloon without responding to her question, with Olivia following behind him.

It was full of smoke, obviously from people smoking thick cigars all over the joint. Olivia coughed and fanned the air in front of her face with her hand as she stepped in, slightly choking on the smog, the smell of the stuff almost nauseating and could make one's eyes water. But Gene didn't react to it like it didn't even faze him, as though he was used to it. The heavy amount of smoke wasn't the only pollution going around, as there was a lot of noise from the people within, laughing, roaring, and simply having a good time, their conversations almost drowning out the sound of the music coming from the jukebox. As Olivia and Gene found a seat near the bar, the man would slap the counter to get the attention of the bartender, a lanky and humble looking man wearing a bandanna and denim clothes.

"Yo," he said to him loud and clear over the music and people, "I want your best whiskey."

"Ah... um, that's the Something Special..." The bartender timidly said.

"Eugh... never liked that one. Doncha have anything else? C'mon, look at all those whiskeys on the rack behind you..." Gene pointed out to that very rack, which seemed to be lined with all sorts of exquisite and imported brands, "You gotta have one in there _some_where."

"Um, we do... the Curry Scotch is my other best one, but..."

"But?"

"It's reserved strictly for one person here."

"I don't see his name on it... I guess that's his problem. I want the Curry Scotch."

"B-but sir..."

"Curry Scotch. I won't ask for anythin' else."

Gene hadn't noticed it, but three men had approached just then, all of them standing out from the other people who were hanging around the place. Everybody had noticed what was going on, and what was being talked about already... it was enough to quiet down most of the noise previously going on, with the jukebox following, as the music it was playing reached it's closure and would need another coin to get it running. The silence that filled this bar was that of anticipation, intensity, and nervousness, with the majority of the saloon's patrons all fixated on the scene transpiring at the bar.

"Uh oh..." Olivia quietly said to herself, stepping back to get a safe distance away.

"Hm?" Gene rose an eyebrow, then turned in his barstool to face the men around him, sensing and hearing their approach, the heels of their boots thudding against the wood floor. One had a large green mohawk. The other had an eyepatch, and the last guy had three scars running straight down the middle of his face—but they weren't real. You could easily tell it was a tattoo. He also carried a metal bat, which he had leaning against his shoulder. The one thing they shared in common was that they all wore a belt buckle that had a triangle with a skull running down the middle of it.

Olivia's frown changed into a smirk when she saw that emblem. What a convenient moment...

"What's up?" Gene asked, grinning coolly at them as he leaned against the bar counter.

"Listen, kid..." The man with the eyepatch then said to him in a raspy voice that sounded like he had a bottle brush in his throat, "The Curry Scotch belongs to the boss in this town. You understand? Get the Something Special, it's better for ya."

"Something Special ain't so special." Gene then scoffed, "I want that scotch."

"Mack, we're not gonna argue with ya. That brand belongs to the boss, and there ain't no one else here who's allowed to touch it. It's his special whiskey."

"Like I give a shit."

"Still insisting on it, are you? Well, then... if you're not gonna listen to reason, then I guess we'll just haveta kick your ass all over this bar!"

Gene sighed with a roll of his eyes, "Challenging me? Look, buddy, I don't think you wanna do that right now. But if you're looking for a beating that bad, weeeeeeelll..." he then stands up, brushing aside the tail of his coat as he then got into a fighting stance, raising his fists up with a confident smirk on his face and his gaze falling on all three of the men who were now showing animosity, "...hell, I guess I could have a little fun with you."

"You idiot... talking to us like you think you're so cool... it'll be a pleasure to break your face." The three angry looking thugs then readied themselves, giving a threatening posture that was a sure sign they were going to wreck this guy up for being such a smartass.

"Try it if you can," he replied. Immediately, the mohawked man roared forth and swung a fierce haymaker at Gene's head, hoping to strike him down in one blow. But Gene had better agility, and could easily telegraph his attack. He ducked his head under his arm and with a swift movement, he slammed his fist hard into the man's gut and sent him reeling back, coughing for air. Gene didn't let up, and promptly gave a short hop off the floor to snap a kick upward into the man's face, throwing him off his feet and to the floor with a loud grunt from the landing, where he passed out shortly after.

Gene then turned to the two remaining men, "Next."

The man with the tattooed scars then stepped forward, gripping the metallic bat with both hands by it's hilt and madly swung at Gene, clinching his teeth as he intended to try and knock the man's head clean off his shoulders. Gene weaved over to the side away from the weapon's strike, which nearly hit the poor bartender, and he ducked behind the bar to safety as a result. Seeing he missed, the scar-tattoo man turned and swung at Gene again while he was in range, only for him to miss again when Gene ducked under it, and then swerved over behind him to kick him in the back. The force caused him to stumble forward, and he slammed into the bar counter, making him fall over it halfway. The tattooed man was frustrated, his face starting to turn red with rage, knowing that Gene did that to taunt him as he pushed himself off the bar.

To further add to the insult, Gene beckoned him forward with his hand, "C'mon, slugger, try and hit a home run."

"I'll knock you outta the ballpark!" the thug retorted as he ran over with a loud scream and angrily swung the bat back and forth several times to try and hit Gene, but the drifter dodged and ducked every one of them before finally throwing a knee into the man's rib cage, slamming his open palms against each side of the man's head to stun him, kicking him in the chest with a spinning back kick, then uppercutting him in the jaw, sending him flying back and falling to the floor, passing out from the cumulative blows and the bat clattering loudly to the floor as he dropped it before landing.

And that left the eyepatch wearing man, who glared hatefully at the guy who just made monkeys out of his pals, and he wasn't going to stand for being made a fool of himself. He grabbed a nearby bottle off the bar counter and smashed half of it against it, throwing brandy across it and a barstool and thick glass around, but in the end, making a crude yet effective stabbing weapon, now that it had a lot of menacingly sharp points for piercing and slicing flesh. The bartender, who rose for a moment to watch, silently cursed to himself in despair, realizing this simple discussion had quickly turned ugly, and hid back behind the counter for protection.

"Now why'd you do that?" Gene shrugged, shaking his head, "That was a waste of perfectly good beer."

"The only thing that's going to be a perfect waste here is your blood!" The eyepatch man yelled as he lunged at Gene, attempting to stab him with the jagged beer bottle. He came close to stabbing the man in the side with it, but he only nicked the side of his coat as he moved out of range, and attempted several more stabs, each one missing it's mark. The armed man turned to face Gene after one failed attack that caused him to stumble past his target, but instead was met with a fierce kick that was not aimed at him, but at the bottle he held in his hand, shattering it with his boot and sending pieces of it flying into the air. Now all the man held was the neck of the bottle, which was all that remained of his once dangerous weapon.

"Sucks when that happens, huh?" Gene said with a grin as the man stared with his mouth agape at his now _totally_ broken and useless bottle... or what was left of it, anyway. This guy was good; he wasn't just some cocky punk who could talk a fight but not back it up... this guy was one of those who could talk it up _and_ back it up, and frankly, he wasn't sure how to handle a guy like this one. Then he noticed the girl, Olivia, who had been excitedly watching him fight with clinched fists. He quickly reached out to her, and grabbed her by her arm, surprising her as he swiftly pulled a switchblade out from his pocket before wrapping his arm around her so he could hold the blade more easily at her throat while securely holding her.

"Hey! Ow!" Olivia gasped, eyes wide in surprise of finding herself in a perilous position.

"Alright, dude... you may have kicked around my pals, but we can put this behind us if you just get the Something Special, and not cause us anymore trouble," he demanded, squeezing the girl's arm tight, "got it? And your pretty friend here won't have to bathe in her own blood."

"Go ahead," Gene said, turning his head to the side with no interest, with his hands in his pockets, "No skin off my nose."

"Aw, come on!"

Olivia gave Gene an angry glare, "Hey, buster!" she then throws her leg back, striking her captor in the shin with the sharp heel of her boot, the sudden blow making him cry out and drop the knife as he backed off and held his leg. Olivia then turned and kicked the man hard in the nads, making him gasp loudly in surprise and hold his crotch in agony as he bent over and fell on his knees. She then turned to Gene and folded her arms across her chest, "Don't think you can get rid of me that easily!"

Gene picked the knife up and retracted the blade before juggling it in his hand, "Oh, you were in danger? I'm, uh, glad you're safe," he said, in a mock-relieved tone. Olivia simply growled at him with narrowed eyes, tapping her finger against her arm.

"You... ugh... you... s-son of a..." the eyepatched man gasped, trying to get back up as he held his crotch with one hand, almost stumbling, "I'm gonna kill you..."

Gene then simply kicked the man sharply in the face, knocking him back down and rendering him unconscious, "No thanks. Got things to do."

He then felt the angry stares of several people, and turned around. Staring at him were a few more goons of various shapes and sizes, and none of them looked too pleased at what they saw. Olivia eyed their belt buckles... they had the exact same emblem. A triangle with a skull in the middle. Apparently, these guys were associations of the goons Gene just knocked into dreamland. And each one wanted a piece of the guy who was now stirring up trouble in a place they liked to frequent. One of them was cracking his knuckles, and another was pawing his two-by-four... another one of them was preparing a set of brass knuckles, and one other was licking his tongue along a large, menacing looking knife while cackling like a hyena. Olivia wasn't even the one getting the stares, and she could feel the bloodlust emanating from these guys.

"Um..." Olivia then choked, her eyes not wavering from the group "...Gene?"

Gene simply smirked, and got into a fighting stance, "Now this is the kind of thing I like," he then looked over to Olivia, "Why don't you get outta here, sweetheart. This is gonna get hectic."

You didn't have to tell her twice. Olivia darted through the saloon doors like a cheetah, not just for her safety, but she knew she didn't want to get in Gene's way. Given the number of thugs who were facing Gene, things would be so crazy, she might accidentally get caught up in the chaos. But this also disappointed her. She wanted to see Gene fight with... _it_. She wanted to see how he would fare. She wanted to know if he was worth rooting for...

...because he had _the_ Godhand. That very mystical arm that was used to defeat the being known as Angra. This has a story to it, of course... there is a reason he had the Godhand. One of them, anyway. And if Gene died, well... it was going to make things very complicated. Because he had the Godhand, she had to depend on him, even though she really didn't like him, and the feeling was mutual. As she headed over to a safer place, she prayed for him not to do something stupid and get killed.

At the Saloon, Gene was facing off with the bunch who were now gathering around before him, all of them eager to rip the guy a new hole. He smiled wide, and felt a great excitement welling up in his chest... ah, what a thrill... so many faces to cave in, so many butts to kick. The patrons of the bar who weren't violent psychopaths would quickly rush to the exits to at least not get caught up in the fight about the come. Others stayed with interest in seeing what was going to happen... others were chuckling to themselves in amusement, almost pitying the lone man who was going to be fighting against what seemed like 10 to 15 men all at once.

Something about these odds made him very excited... what was it? He could feel something stirring within his heart and soul that just made him want to beat these guys up. Well, this was no time to dwindle on it. This was no longer a time for thinking. It was a time for action.

"...come on!" Gene shouted to them, a wide smile on his face as he clinched his fists tight, "Let's party!"


	2. Trouble with a Captial T

There was Gene, standing before a large group of angry, vicious men who'd no sooner punch their mothers in the face and call it a day. It was as though almost everyone wanted a piece of the guy who was causing trouble in _their_ bar. This didn't bother him in the slightest... in fact, something about this made him excited to be here. He thought this town would be boring... but if there were losers like these here to knock around, maybe things will be looking up.

Besides, he needed some stress relief after dealing with Olivia, who has quickly proven to be a bother to him. And due to the Godhand, he wasn't allowed to get away from her. The thought of being stuck with her as long as he had this mystical arm, it aggravated him to no end since he got off the train, but now that he had some people to beat up, he could work off the anger he felt about it by taking it out on these clowns.

For that matter, Olivia mentioned the Godhand was pretty powerful... Gene wondered about that, if what she said was real. When she told him all about these godhands, he didn't really believe her. It seemed like a bunch of baloney she made up. He also wondered just how she got the arm attached to his body. Or was it really just the arm he had been born with? He could have sworn he lost it. When he thought about this on the train, none of it seemed to make any sense, yet he felt he had to know somehow.

Oh well. There was no time to worry about that right now. He had more pressing concerns... like who's face he should rearrange first. He'll ask Olivia about this other stuff later.

"So... are you all gonna come all at once for an orgy of beatdowns," Gene taunted at the group, voice practically oozing cockiness, "or are you just going to come and get manhandled one at a time? Either way, you get the crap kicked out of you."

His response? All the thugs letting out a fierce battle cry as they charge at Gene all at once, those with weapons preparing them for brutalizing and injury. As they surrounded Gene, they began attacking him from various sides, thinking that the numbers game would end this guy quick. But they did not know Gene... he wasn't any average guy who just walks in and picks a fight and then gets his butt kicked.

Well, maybe at one point he was. But that was so long ago that he doesn't remember it anymore. And it's not really terribly important to this story anyways, who gives a crap?

As two thugs ran in to swipe at Gene at the same time, their target leaped over them, taking a temporary hold on their heads with both his hands, only to push off them and land a flying dropkick into the chest of one thug who was carrying a pair of axes, making him crash into three other thugs. One other thug decorated with feathers and a leather jacket then ran in from the side with a lead pipe, but Gene anticipated him, and threw the switchblade knife from Mr. Eyepatch that he still had in his hand, clocking him between the eyes with the blunt end and making him lose his concentration. This small opening is all Gene needed to close in and punch him in the gut, and then spin on his heel and kick him hard in the face, the blow throwing him to the floor.

A larger, muscular man then grabbed Gene from behind and rose him over his head, roaring as he threw him across the room. Gene slammed into a nearby table occupied by cards and poker chips, which buckled and collapsed into a mess with the impact of his weight, throwing it's contents into the air and to the floor. This took Gene off his guard for a moment to allow one of the thugs to leap in and punch Gene in the jaw a few times, but he held his footing and retaliated after the second punch with a fierce right hook, then grabbed the thug by his hair and elbowed him in the face before swiftly grabbing a chair and smashing it against his head, causing him to start bleeding from a cut opened in his forehead. Gene then tossed the man into a group of two men who tried to come to the poor fool's aid, causing them all to go tumbling down.

As this went on and intensified, the nervous bartender reached for a phone hidden behind the bar and began dialing a number. Holding onto it tightly, he anxiously waited for someone to pick up, hearing the ring tone start... a few rings later, it was picked up. "Hello? Sheriff? There's a huge fight in my bar!" A glass came flying out and smashed into pieces just above him into a wall, making him cry in surprise before he returned to the phone, "I don't care what you do, just help me right away, _please_!"

At that moment, another thug who just got his ass handed to him by the man in the hooded trenchcoat landed on top of the bar counter, and his arm draped over right next to the bartender, making him fall backward. He then turned to phone again and shouted into the speaker, "Yes! As soon as you can!"

Gene backed off from a group who were trying to attack him all at once. One of them closed in and threw a fierce punch at our hero, but he bobbed out of the way in time for the guy's fist to collide with one of the unaffiliated gents also occupying the bar, knocking the poor man out. His girlfriend, a small, lithe-seeming girl, angrily took offense to that and got up, "You bastard! That was my fiancée! Only I can kick the crap out of him!" she declared.

With that, she fiercely decked the thug across the face and sent him falling back into another random person, who spilled his beer on another guy, getting him wet with alcohol. Angry at this, he punches the spilled-beer guy as well! Needless to say, this began a chain reaction that soon involved everyone inside the bar, and now practically _everybody_ was fighting and beating up each other all around, much to the bartender's chagrin.

"Damn it!" The tender growled, watching the chaos unfold before his eyes, "I thought this sort of thing only happened in movies!" He moaned in agony as various occupants used whatever they could get a hold of as a weapon and trash the poor man's bar up as they continued brawling, a moment he felt was lasting forever at this rate. The action was so frenzied and furious that now Gene was lost in the crowd, though he was still there and duking it out with the gang he picked a fight with.

To the bartender's relief, however, he would soon hear the sounds of sirens approaching the bar several minutes later, and thanking the divine powers that be for sending someone to deal with the rampage. The sheriff was here to stop all the insanity, and to put an end to the craziness that took over his bar...

The incident would be quickly and swiftly taken care of, indeed.

* * *

After everything was over, Gene soon found himself laying on his back on the bed hanging a couple feet off the floor of his jail cell, attached to the wall thanks to some strong chains. He was resting with a few bruises he obtained from his battles, using his arms as a makeshift pillow behind his head and with one leg propped up on top of his thigh. He wished the accommodations of his cell were more welcoming; he didn't even get a pillow or a toilet in his, and it was cold, musty, and smelled horrible... probably because the last person inside it hurled all over the floor and then lost control of his bladder on top of it, so the smell of both hadn't gone away yet. He wasn't too distraught over how things turned out, though, or bothered by the smell. At least it was better than sitting on that train with Olivia, he thought. It's been hours since the incident at the saloon ended, by now, it was practically night time... not that Gene would have any way of knowing that; he didn't care to keep time and there was no window in his cell.

The sound of a pair of footsteps approaching would get his attention just then, but he wouldn't bother to adjust his position or look up as they grew closer. Then they came to a stop in front of his cell, and the sound of rattling keys was heard, following by the key inserting into the lock, turning, unlocking the cell, and the door itself being loudly slid open with the creaking of gears.

"Alright, boy, get up and get outta there," a gruff voice with a southern drawl spoke, "your bail's been paid."

Gene said nothing as he changed his position and sat up, dangling his legs over his bed for a moment before shifting onto a stand with his feet, wondering for a moment who sprung him. He looked over to see that Olivia was there in front of the door, her hands on her hips and head tilted to the side, frowning at her companion for getting into trouble. Next to her was a large, muscular man in khaki pants and a blue shirt with a black leather vest draped around him, wearing a modified cowboy hat with a large red feather on one side, and a rose on the other, held there by a strap wrapped around the middle of his hat. He was glaring at Gene with a bearded face that looked like it was cut from granite and like he hadn't smiled in at least two decades.

The man had a badge of course, indicating his position as the head sheriff... it was located right on the middle of his hat. A second one was located on the right side of his vest, but it wasn't quite as intricately designed as the one on his hat... it was like this man loved to decorate his hat with all sorts of things.

"Well?" the man said, "G'wan! Get your carcass outta my jail cell, boy."

"Get off my case, will ya? I'm goin'," Gene said, irritated by the pushy sheriff, as he placed his hands in his pockets and walked out of the cell, the same sheriff closing the door shortly after. Olivia shot him a glare as she stepped over to him.

"Try not to get into trouble like that again, okay?" she then said, as they began walking down the hall of cells, following the sheriff.

"Hey, it's not _my_ fault. Those punks are the ones who started it," Gene snapped, before changing the topic, "By the way... how'd you get the money to pay my bail? It was set to at least 3,000 gold."

"That's not important," Olivia said, dodging the question, "Right now, we need to get moving, and we can't afford any delays. Time's of the essence!"

"What's the hurry? It's not like Armageddon's gonna hit us in a few hours."

"I have reason to hurry you onward," she then looks to the sheriff while he wasn't listening in, then over to Gene, whispering to his ear, "I recognized the emblem that made up their belt buckles. It's the _Black Skull gang_."

"The who?" Gene whispered back.

"The Black Skull! They are infamous around these parts..." she went on to explain, "they're the guys who are rumored to be worshipping demons so that they can gain power and influence. I did a little research, and I found out that they have a tight grip around this town and several it's surrounding areas."

"A tight grip, huh?"

Olivia nodded, "If the rumors are true, do you know what this means?"

"Not really," Gene then sighed, "I don't even care. I'd like to mind my own business."

Olivia was about to speak further, but by this time they reached the sheriff's office, which was connected to the cell hallways in behind it. The sheriff then sat down in his cushy chair behind his desk with a grunt, and looked to the two youths as the chair creaked, as if groaning wearily at supporting his weight. His office was decorated with various pictures and trophies of accomplishments. This guy, before he became a sheriff, was a well-known wrestler in the ring. Gene let out a whistle at the collection of his accomplishments, impressed more by how much he collected, rather than how good he was at his professions.

"Love yourself, much?" Gene joked.

The sheriff didn't bother to even reply to that. He was too busy lighting a cigar after having placed it between his lips and then took a few puffs before blowing smoke into the air, waving the match through the air to put out the flame before tossing the match away. He then placed it back into his mouth and gave Gene a glare.

"I don't want you causing problems in my town, got it? Already you're on thin ice after that little fiasco," he growled, "You start trouble here, I clean your clock."

"Sure, if you say so," Gene said, feigning attention.

"I mean it," the gruff sheriff says in a warning tone, "You show any disrespect for justice around here, I'll be all over you so fast you'll think it's Hell on Earth."

"...are you coming on to me?"

"...just get outta here!" He roared in frustration, pointing at the door with his cigar, "Or Sheriff Rupert D. Justice is gonna make ya a dead man _standin'_!"

Olivia would pull Gene away by his arm before he could say anything to irritate the angry lawman even further than he already had. Soon enough, both were standing outside the building, the doors slowly slamming shut, which had a series of metal bars covering the front of them... likely to prevent any criminals from breaking out of it in case they locked it up.

"So," Gene said, looking back to the girl, "The Black Skull gang."

"Yep. The Black Skull," he responds.

"Mmhmm... demon-worshippers."

"Uh-huh."

"Got the town helpless."

"That they do."

"And you want _me_ to beat them up."

"Yyyyyyyep."

"...I'm outie," Gene turned to walk off, but then he heard the piercing shriek of what sounded like a very sharp weapon unsheathed, which made him freeze in his tracks before he got too far.

"Ohhhh no," Olivia said, clutching something in her hand, "You are not going _anywhere_... not on my watch."

Gene turned around, and found himself staring at a large, intricately designed axe that she was holding in one hand... it's blade glinting with light, and looking like it might be hungry for flesh. She seemed pretty annoyed with Gene, giving him a rather nasty look as she clutched that menacing-looking axe.

"...where'd you get that?" He asked, somewhat nervously.

"I won't 'axe' you again," she said, frowning, as she avoided his question yet again, "you are gonna help me rid the town of these bozos. Or... I suppose I _could_ just letcha go. However, I'll have to take the Godhand back..." she then pointed the blade of the axe at his right arm, his gaze following it, "got it?"

"..." There was a brief silence as Gene watched the axe for a few moments before finally sighing in defeat and placing a hand behind his head, frustrated, and having nothing left to argue with her on... not with that axe she held. And he didn't want a repeat incident like the one some time ago... "Fine. I'll help."

Olivia held the axe with both hands as she smiled cutely and her expression lightened, beaming happily as she got her way, and swinging her hips a bit in a particularly sexy way, "Awww, I knew you would see things my way~..."

"...yeah. Sure."

"We'll get started tomorrow. It's awful late tonight," Olivia then said, noting the dark sky and began to walk off, "besides, I'm sure you'd like to sleep in a more comfortable place than that smelly jail."

"I've had worse, but, yeah," Gene followed, placing his hands in his pockets, wanting to quickly forget that frightening discussion took place, "You manage to get us a room?"

"I found a decent inn around here we can use while we're in town. Right over this way," she told him as she led him down the street.

"Guess that's the best thing I've heard all night so far. We are getting separate rooms, right?"

"Sorry, couldn't afford it," Olivia said, making Gene curse to himself under his breath, "We'll have to share a room," and with that, she turned her head over to him and gave him a scowl, "Don't even _think_ about trying to spy on me while I'm undressing, okay?"

"Tch," Gene scoffed, disgusted at the very idea, "don't kid yourself."

* * *

And so, they headed on inside the inn... simply call the _'Inn and Out'_. It was a painfully punny name for a little hotel, but sometimes, that's just how the business rolls. Or so they say... Gene and Olivia made their way to their rooms, which was locate on the second floor of the building. Accommodations could have been better... the floor was dusty, the room was drabbish, the two beds looked like it had seen better days, and there was a small antique TV that didn't even get cable. The bathroom itself wasn't the cleanest, but it had clean water running through it's pipes, and a shower.

At least it was nicer than the jail cell Gene was in. And it didn't smell like a stinking pit, either.

Gene, of course, was already on the bed, downing a bottle of whiskey he managed to get with what little money he had off the little bar downstairs. Once he gulped it all down, he sighed in satisfaction and laid down on the bed, folding a leg on top of the other and an arm behind his head, draping his other one, with the now-empty bottle in his hand, across his abdomen.

"Nothin' like a good drink..." Gene said with a smile, having finally managed to get some booze.

Olivia herself went to the bathroom to freshen up, having taken a hot shower to get clean... she had come back out a little while after Gene finished drinking, already back in her clothes, and drying off her hair with a towel.

"We need to think of a strategy tomorrow," Olivia then said, walking over to him as she ran the towel through her wet hair, "Find out a good way to get around to trashing these baddies."

"Who's this 'we' you keep talking about?" Gene then said, raising his head up to look to the girl, "I don't really count myself in the equation, honey-pie."

Olivia just ignored that and resumed taking, "most importantly, we need to gather information so we can figure out where the Black Skull's base is."

She then turned to Gene with a smile as she lowered the towel from her head and let it dangle along the floor in her hand, "That's where _you_ come in."

Gene sighed and rolled his eyes with a wry grin, throwing up his hands in defeat, since he knew there was no arguing with this girl, "Right. Whaddya want me to do?"

"What you do best," she then said, "Kick some ass and make `em talk."

"You really think it's gonna be that easy?"

"Well, you _do_ have the Godhand," she said, neatly folding the towel, "you should be able to take down those creeps with it. That is, if you're the right person to wield it."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Mmm, lemme put it this way; if you're not qualified, you can't use it," she explained, setting the towel down on the nearby table, "the Godhand can't just be used by _anyone_. It has to be a person with the right potential. If the host isn't suitable, the Godhand will just be like a normal arm."

She then turns back to him again, folding her arms across her chest, "Only those who are worthy of the Godhand's use will be able to use it's full power. And so far I haven't been able to determine if you're the kind of guy who can wield it."

Gene glared daggers at her, giving her a rather insulted look, "If you aren't sure, then why did you give me the damn thing in the first place?" he shouted.

"Shut up!" she then snapped, turning her head away in frustration, "I don't know! I thought... I thought you might have the potential, I guess. It's not like I can be correct on who I'm choosing. I've never really seen the Godhand in action, and I can't really tell if you're the right one to use it."

"..." Gene simply stared at her for a few minutes before relaxing his gaze and turning away from her, resting his head back on his arm, "...maybe I am, and maybe I'm not. Guess we'll find out in due time."

He then grinned as he rolled over onto his side to face her.

"I'll play along for now."

"Huh?" Olivia looked over to him.

"You want to know if I'm qualified for the Godhand's power, right?" Gene said, "So I guess I'll test it for you. Could be interesting to see what it'll be like if I can really use it."

"...well... I guesso..." Olivia slightly grinned, "anyways, let's get some rest for tonight and I'll let you go and bust some heads in the morning."

"Heh, sure," Gene then turned back around on the bed, "We'll talk it over a bit more while we're at it."

Olivia nodded. She quietly thought, _YES!_ to herself in having managed to talk Gene into helping her with her mission... she had hoped he'd stick with it too. She didn't want him ditching with the Godhand.

Soon afterwards, both of the room's occupants were asleep in their beds... Gene, still on top of the bed, covers and all, turned over once while asleep, the bottle he had been holding onto falling out of his grip, rolling off the bed, and clanking to the floor. This noise didn't wake Olivia, though, who was sleeping under the covers of her bed with her boots off and set to the side, sleeping blissful and unaware.

A little bit later, the doorknob was rattling around for a moment, like something was moving about inside it... the sound of it's lock suddenly jolted and the door, which had been locked before, then came unlocked. The doorknob slowly turned, and the door was slowly pushed open, a slight creak coming from the door's hinges, but hopefully not enough to wake the sleeping heroes.

The door then slowly opened up all the way, revealing three familiar men, who soon came in through the open door, holding weapons... it was the men from the earlier meeting in the saloon. The very three men who Gene beat up that led to that big barfight with the other thugs they were associated with!

"...heheheh... payback time..." the eyepatched man said with an evil smile, holding a sledgehammer in his hands.


End file.
